Independence
by Kate Christie
Summary: One thing DC knows how to do is light up the sky on the Fourth of July. How Kate spends her holiday. A one-shot, loosely related to my story, "Liberty," from one year ago today.


**Independence**

**A/N: Not exactly a sequel to last summer's "Liberty," but it might not hurt to read that one-shot first. Happy Independence Day to all who celebrate it.**

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The air was heavy, barely a breeze stirred off the river blocks to her left as Kate leaned against the rough brick ledge. When she had rented the narrow, three-story row house on Capitol Hill, the ad had said "charming rooftop deck." Of course, it had really meant "tiny, precarious nook accessible only through the bedroom window."

But it gave her a view of her very own.

That phrase carried a decidedly different meaning here, in city where no building could stand higher than the Washington Monument. From her vantage point beside the chimney, she had a clear line of sight to that usually regal obelisk, currently covered in scaffolding from repairs since the earthquake in 2011.

Shifting her weight to let her other elbow share in the gritty scrape of crumbling mortar, she scanned the uninterrupted swath of darkening sapphire above her for signs of stars. It was just after nine, and though the clouds had finally cleared from the mostly-gray day, there was no moon out yet. There wouldn't be for a while - she had seen it rising on her way home, well after 3 that morning.

The case she was working was proving tedious. Long hours of combing through the messes left by other law enforcement teams' investigations, trying to piece together the facts from a sea of second-hand misinformation and hearsay.

But at least it was a case.

The weeks of training had started to wear on her patience; between the four rounds of fingerprinting for obtaining clearances and badges, she had sat through inane sessions on internet security, interacting with the media, whistle-blowing, and sexual harassment, until she thought her temper, if not her actual brain, might explode.

It turned out NYPD bureaucracy had nothing on the federal government.

When she realized the small group session on workplace conflict resolution actually involved role-play, she very nearly quit on the spot. It almost made her long for the days of her sparring sessions with Burke. Thankfully, she'd gotten access to the gym facilities early on, and a few rounds with the sandbag had kept her instructors from losing valuable limbs.

Just the memory of all that futility brought on a claustrophobic wave, and she stood up to tug at the hem of her cotton skirt, catching the tiniest draft of air wafting along Independence Ave. With the constant press of muggy heat greeting her every time she stepped outside the frigid federal buildings, Kate hadn't been able to bring herself to wear pants when she wasn't at work. She would never understand why they had built the nation's capital on the site of a swamp.

At least one aspect of working for Uncle Sam had been a pleasant surprise. When she had checked in with Stack the afternoon before about their usual Thursday morning meeting, he had looked at her like she had lost her mind. Apparently, her position with the AG's office was just like any other Federal Government job - federal holidays were actually observed as days off. And considering that she'd had a total of three days outside the office in the past 8 weeks, she wasn't about to question the system.

The very first one had included a morning at the salon, complete with a haircut and a two-hour full body massage, just to undo the damage from days of fuming and fidgeting in classrooms. And she had to admit the shorter hair felt liberating, somehow.

When her interminable orienting was finally complete, she had been tossed into the melee that was this amorphous, slightly undefined law enforcement branch.

Once a case began, her team was tireless. They pulled all-nighters on a regular basis, always racing to get up to speed and ahead of whatever other agency might have their noses in a given investigation. At least being constantly busy and generally exhausted had kept her mind off of… other things. She couldn't mourn what she had given up if she didn't have time to remember it.

Them.

She had kept in touch. Sort of.

For the past week she had been fending off well-meaning invitations from Lanie and the boys for the Ryans' annual barbecue, saying she had to work the holiday, but in the end, even though there was always the possibility of a last-minute flight up, she knew she had to be back at the case first thing tomorrow, and the thought of two flights in one day had sounded draining.

A cloying tickle of perspiration coalesced between her collarbones and made its leisurely way down her chest until it was absorbed by the band of her bra. Her fingers traced its lingering path through the fabric of her button-down, eventually meeting the chain that was once again a daily fixture at her neck.

Pressing against the circle of warm metal beneath the cotton blouse, she thought of other Independence Days: brown skin and sun-bleached hair, damp bathing suits, hamburgers out by the lake at the cabin, setting off firecrackers over the water at dusk with her parents. At least she could smile at those memories now, when for so long, all they had brought was a feeling of emptiness that refused to fade.

The chasm of dark years spanned wide. But then last summer, there had been light again. The memory flooded her veins: the feel of her toes warm in the sand, waves breaking in shifting counterpoint to the fireworks exploding overhead. Castle sitting behind her, his arms wrapped securely at her shoulders, his lips brushing her ear with words of hope, of their future.

It made her stomach drop to think of how different this future was from anything she could have imagined just twelve short months before.

A new job; a new city; a new life.

A new Kate Beckett entirely – one who saw what she wanted and went for it, no regrets.

A soft "pop" drew her attention to the western horizon, where the first burst of silvery light was fading behind the tip of the monument.

One thing DC knew how to do was light up the sky on the fourth of July. Even her normally stiff colleagues had smiled and told her that no matter what she was doing, she had better take advantage of this chance to watch live.

Though the National Symphony Orchestra's music on the Mall was too far away to be heard, revelers on the street below making their way to the best rise of ground provided ambiance with their well-timed "Oh's" and occasional shouts of joy.

Kate grinned in spite of herself as a single rocket streaked through the sky, exploding into a volley of green, pink, and purple spinners that whirled wildly about before blinking out to black.

Reaching for her pocket, she froze with her hand wrapped around her cell phone.

There was no point in calling.

It wouldn't do any good.

This was a moment to live in, to enjoy for what it was.

And that's exactly what she was doing now – living her life on her terms.

A rush of cool air chilled the dewy skin of her calves, finally providing a little relief from the summer swelter.

"They already started? Don't tell me I missed the big poppy-whirly ones?"

She didn't turn right away, just kept her eyes on the show as something in her chest settled into its rightful place once again.

"What took you so long, Castle? I was starting to think you'd locked yourself in the basement again."

"I couldn't remember where we put the flutes when they were too tall for the kitchen cabinets, and then I had a small incident with the cork getting away from me... And before you get mad, I promise I'll get a new frame tomorrow."

That caught her interest, and she spun to squint in his direction.

"And for the record, we didn't know that door locked automatically until I so selflessly sacrificed my entire Tuesday figuring it out."

It was with surprising grace that Castle swung his legs over the sill and unfolded himself to stand behind her, open champagne bottle in one hand and two crystal flutes in the other.

"So did I miss the Crazy Ivan?"

"I still have no idea what you're talking about, but they just got started."

"They probably did it right at the beginning." His exaggerated pout prompted a whole-hearted eye roll, but the man was pouring her champagne, so she kept her quip to herself. He passed her the first glass of golden bubbles. "Here, this ought to help with the heat."

Filling his own glass and setting the already-sweating bottle on the ledge, he reached out to toast.

Leaning her shoulder into the solid wall of his chest, she felt his free arm encircle her waist and spoke before he got the chance.

"To independence."

That won her a quizzical look, but he went along.

"To independence."

The icy shimmer over her lips and down her tongue forced a little moan of pleasure from deep in her chest. She had to give him credit - he had his moments of sweet and romantic. Her first thought for their rooftop viewing tonight had been a cold beer after their dinner of backyard hotdogs and potato salad, but God, this was heaven.

"Good idea."

His fingers flexed along her hipbone, pulling her in a little closer.

"Good champagne needs no special occasion - it's an occasion all its own."

Okay, so smarmy and smug were always lurking.

Her half-glaring smirk stayed mostly hidden behind her glass as she took another long drag of wine and turned her attention back to the monument.

Red, white, and blue peppered the sky just before the report of the exploding rockets reached their ears. A cheer rose up from the avenue at the rapid fire of color and sound, and a glow that had nothing to do with pyrotechnics rose in her own chest.

He was here. He'd left New York, his family, their friends, and he'd made Washington his home. Their home. It was something she had never even considered when the opportunity for this job had presented itself months ago. And all he'd asked in return was to for her to let him in. It hadn't happened overnight; they still struggled every day, but it was working, because they were working at it. Working for it. For each other.

Her fingers found the ring again, tips bumping over the knobby collection of stones, fiddling with the thick, platinum rope chain he'd insisted was only practical, to hold the heavier weight.

After two months, that weight felt right. Grounded her when she needed it most. Lifted her when the rest of the world was dragging her down. She could see it on her finger now; could imagine it pressing into the soft skin where that fourth digit met her palm.

She would put it on soon.

Silence, soft and warm, curled around them as they stood, eyes alight, faces tipped up to greet the spectacle, to let the pulsing glow of starbursts wash over them. The brilliance of the light, or maybe just of the energy radiating from the man wrapped around her, made her whole body feel loose, her mind, free.

His breath puffed against her ear as he spoke softly on an exhale.

"I love you."

Hearing it still made her heart jump. Saying it back was easier every day. This time she found his fingers, laced hers in between, tipped her head to see him.

"I love you, too."

One of the whirling, spiraling fireworks went off, and his eyes went wide, the fizzing sparks of color reflecting back in his wide, dark pupils rivaling his own bursting enthusiasm.

"See it? That's the Crazy Ivan! They never have that one at the Hamptons!"

Chuckling, she nudged her nose along his jawline.

"I'll bet you can find the guy who does this show and get some sent up there for next year."

Long Island had an airstrip, and two flights in a day might not be so bad, after all.

The glow mellowed in his eyes as his gaze met hers.

"Yeah?"

"You'd better try, because I'm not letting your whining ruin my beach time."

His lips were soft as he kissed her - a slow, gentle caress that weakened her knees, made her heart melt a little with its persuasive tenderness. The feelings needed out.

Pulling away just enough to speak, she tipped her forehead into his.

"Thank you."

The start of a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he waggled his brows and raised his glass to sip his wine.

"I've got two cases of this stuff in the basement and a whole lot of ideas about how you can show me your gratitude."

"Not for the champagne," she groused.

Her fingers found purchase at his waist, and she pinched his side, prompting a shrieking apology.

Taking a moment to win back her calm, she saw the joking mirth playing across his features diffuse back into easy warmth. Meeting his eyes and holding there, she took a breath and tried again.

"Thank you for being here. For being with me."

A volley of streaming, silvery shells showered down behind them. His answer was as genuine as the smile that broke across his face.

"Where else would I possibly be?"

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